Mermaids in the East River
by yorozuyagaren
Summary: David Jacobs is a scholar. He doesn't believe in mermaids.
1. Chapter 1

Mermaids in the East River

Chapter 1

David Jacobs was a scholar, a scientist, a philosopher. He believed in what he could see and study. He believed that there were rules to the world—things went down and not up, for example. And there was no such thing as magic and fairies and strange things like that. He was highly skeptical of the stories the newsies told about shadowy figures half-seen in Union Square Park at midnight, or luminously beautiful women who swam in the East River under the full moon. He thought that Whistler Connolly was downright insane.

"A little one, y'say? 'Bout the size a' my finger?" Whistler asked, crouching down.

Tumbler nodded. "It had little wings like a dragon fly," the younger boy said.

Whistler stood up and nodded. "Pixie. Definitely," he announced. "You keep clear a' the spot for a few days, and stay sharp. Pixies are trouble."

David scoffed from his position near the poker game.

"You shouldn't be telling the kids stories like that," David said, coming over. "You'll mess up their heads."

Whistler stood straighter and looked David in the eye. "I'm doin' a public service. If Tumbler saw a pixie, he saw a pixie. I'm just givin' him a little advice on dealing with it." His expression softened into an easy grin. "Hey, whaddaya say you come down to the harbour with me some evenin'? Just to see what's there."

At first, David was inclined to refuse. Yet for some reason he found himself nodding.

"T'night's the full moon," Whistler said offhand. "I'll come by a little after sundown."

* * *

"Ya gotta be careful, Davey," Racetrack warned. "Somethin' funny about that kid, Whistler. I heard nobody's ever seen 'im sleep."

Mush stood up and padded over on bare feet. "He says he never lies, and you know the kind of crazy stuff he says. Ask him how old he is sometime. He never gives a straight answer."

"I'm not scared of him," David said. "I'm taller than he is."

Racetrack yawned and made a "go ahead" gesture with his cigar. "Just keep an eye on y'self, is all. Wouldn't want Jack to hafta find another brain." He glanced out the window. The last rays of sunset were beginning to fade. "Ya betta get outside b'fore y'date comes, Mouth."


	2. Chapter 2

So, stuff. I got one review on the last chapter, but I'm hoping to get a few more on this one. Even if they're to say that I'm a horrible person for a variety of reasons.

* * *

Mermaids in the East River

Chapter 2

Whistler led David around corners, through narrow alleys, into and out of buildings, and over rooftops for what seemed like hours, until the darker boy was sure he'd never be able to find his way back to the lodginghouse. Finally Whistler let go of David's wrist and stopped.

They were on a dock at the edge of the East River, in an area that David roughly identified as Corlears Hook. The moon hung in the sky like a new minted dollar, its reflection quivering on the surface of the river. David looked at it for a moment or two, wondering at the mysterious beauty of the summer night.

"Now what?" he said.

Whistler held a finger to his lips, then took off his shoes and stockings, motioning for David to do the same. The redheaded boy then hopped down off the dock and onto the wet sand, padding on bare feet over to the water's edge. Crouching, he whistled a few slow trills, then sat back on his haunches to wait.

"What are you doing?" David whispered.

"Whisht!" came the hushed reply.

David had just come to the conclusion that Whistler was even battier than he'd thought when he saw something break the surface of the water about twenty feet from the shore. It was a head. A burst of giggling laughter rang out, then the head dove back under the water to be replaced by an enormous two-finned tail, which then also disappeared. David looked over at Whistler, who was smiling.

"Wait," Whistler whispered.

A flash of silver gleamed in the water, coming closer to the two boys. Then the head popped up again. This time David could see that it was the head of a woman with long fair hair and dark, slanted eyes. Her shoulders were bare. The woman smiled, and David shuddered. She had a strange, unearthly beauty that made him almost forget how sharp her teeth looked.

"Rhui," she breathed. "An grassoin duinne, quille?

"Ea David," Whistler replied. He pronounced it "Dah-veet", which he had never done before. "Ea ceiaraid."

"What language is that?" David asked, feeling rather left out.

The woman giggled. "English, then? Friend David?" she asked, skillfully skirting the question. "Rhui never mentions you."

"Who's Rhui?"

"I am," said Whistler.

The woman continued. "Rhui mentions others—Jack Kelly, Spot Conlon, Racetrack Higgins." She smiled. "Les Jacobs."

"Hey, that's my brother!" David exclaimed.

"He is very wise," she said. "He will grow up well." She turned toward Whistler, but continued in English for David's benefit. "This one is doubtful. Help me to show him."

Whistler rolled up his trouser legs and waded out to her. He lifted her clear of the water and carried her to shore, then set her gently on the wet sand.

David gulped. She had no legs, and in their place was a long, silvery-green tail with two fins at the end. He frowned.

"Whistler—" he began.

"You may touch," said the mermaid. David hurriedly shook his head. He wanted to go home.

"Maybe some other time, Airge," Whistler told her. "He's a little in shock at the moment. I should probably get 'im home."


	3. Chapter 3

Wow. Reviews. I'm rather surprised, all things considered, but it's a happy surprise.

* * *

Mermaids in the East River

Chapter 3

Indeed, David was in shock. Whistler made the silent decision to walk the other boy home, noting his bewildered frown and the slightly glazed look of his eyes. Whistler had noticed that the closer you were to your prime, the harder it was to take the news that the things you'd always thought were stories were real.

"What was her name?" David asked as they wandered through the East Village on the way to the Jacobs' flat.

"Her name's Airge. Air-je."

"Pretty." Whistler wondered if David was referring to Airge or her name, but didn't ask. It was likely that he was referring to both.

"She's dangerous, y'know," the redhead pointed out. "She'd drown a man as soon as look at 'im. I think she likes you."

"Is that a good thing?"

"Might be."

David stepped onto the fire escape. " 'Night," he said. Whistler saluted and wandered off into the night.

Used to their oldest son keeping late hours, the rest of the family had long since gone to sleep. David stripped down to his drawers, crawled into bed beside Les, and fell asleep amid images of ghostly pale women with fish tails and haunting, supernatural giggles.

* * *

"He is strong and handsome, and his brother is wise. It is long since their people were Gaels, but still the blood is there."

Airge prostrated herself before Allod, the king of the seafolk. He came forward, brushing a green-scaled hand over her hair.

"And you say that he is accompanied by Rhui Reynardine?" he asked.

"Aye, Lord."

"I should like to displease my sister by aiding her exile." Allod stroked his beard, deep in thought. "Yes. You shall follow them, aid Reynardine if he needs it. And keep a close watch on David and Les Jacobs. You know what this will entail?"

"Aye, Lord."

"Go then. I shall send one of my mages to attend to the details."


	4. Chapter 4

I LIIIIIIIIVVVEEEEE! What? _Sense_? You want my updating schedule to make _sense_? What a bizarre concept. Where ever did you get it?

Poor David, he's so confused. Hopefully everyone else will be a little more clued-in. You should be, since you're reading the story and thus shouldn't be affected by the magical memory denial issues.

* * *

Mermaids in the East River

Chapter 4

The sound of pots clattering on the stove brought David out of his restless sleep. Once roused, the morning sun seemed to cut like a knife, and try as he might, he couldn't quite keep hold of the images of the night before. Whistler had taken him to the docks, and there'd been a beautiful woman with a fish tail-- no, that couldn't be right. She must have been part of a dream. But when had he fallen asleep? He remembered talking to Racetrack and Mush, then going to the docks with Whistler, then the woman-- What was her name? It was pretty. He didn't remember walking home, but he knew that he must have since here he was in his bed. Had he been drinking? He'd seen something at the docks. Something that shouldn't have been there, and he couldn't for the life of him remember what it had been. It had something to do with Whistler. Maybe Whistler had drugged him, and he had imagined the whole thing? Suddenly David's muddled musings were interrupted by a pillow being thrown at his head.

"David, wake up! We're gonna be late!"

"Go 'way, Les. S'too early," he mumbled, holding the pillow over his face to block the light.

Les pulled the pillow away and started hitting his older brother with it. "Get up get up get up get up get up!" David snarled and pulled himself sitting, grabbing his trousers off the chair he'd left them on the night before. Les was already dressed, and once he saw that David was mobile, the younger boy dashed into the main room to eat breakfast.

David dragged out getting dressed as long as he could, still trying to remember what had happened after he'd left the lodging house with Whistler. Try as he might, though, the images were slipping away like water through a sieve. He resolved to ask Whistler about it the next time he saw him.

* * *

Whistler proved easier to find than David had anticipated. The redheaded newsie was waiting in line at the circulation center along with the more regular boys, accompanied by his son Robbie. David hadn't seen Robbie in a month or two, so at first he and Whistler talked about how big the boy was getting, and how Whistler was going to have to find him new shoes soon, and was it time to replace that blue smock? Whistler wasn't sure that he'd be able to afford new shoes and a new smock both, and the shoes were priority, since the smock could still be patched and there was still an inch or so of hem to let out, and worst come to worst he could always ask Betsy or Tillie or someone for some fabric scraps to add to the bottom when there was no more extra left in the hem. Robbie, clearly pleased to be the center of attention, grinned up at David, showing three new teeth. One was a rather sharp-looking canine, and David had a sudden flash of memory, of a shapely, full-lipped mouth full of dangerously pointed teeth. He scrunched his face, trying to see more of the scene, but it had vanished.

"Hey Davey, you okay?" David opened his eyes to see Whistler peering at him, worried.

"Yeah, I just-- " There was something very odd going on. "Did something happen last night?"

Whistler grabbed the back of Robbie's smock as the child tried to toddle off. "Define 'something'. I'm sure there's a great many things happened last night."

"Something-- something weird. Did we go somewhere?"

"Sure we did. We went out to Corlears Hook, looked at the river for a bit, then I walked you home. You weren't lookin' too good." Whistler paused. "You still en't lookin' too good, come to that."

"That's all?" No people? No-- whatever it was?

"What, d'you remember somethin' different?"

David shook his head half-heartedly. "No. No, I don't think so. I had a strange dream, that's all."

Further conversation was cut off by the circulation manager asking Whistler how many papers he wanted.

"Hm, think I'll get a good stack today, I got my helper with me. Sixty-four, my good man." He pulled out a handful of change and slid it over to the manager, who counted it.

"You're five cents short, kid."

Whistler frowned. "Am I really?"

"Sixty-four papes is thirty-two cents. You gave me twenty-seven. You owe me another nickel."

"Well, fancy that."

"You gonna gimme another nickel or not?"

"Here. This is a nickel, correct?" Whistler and David both turned at the new voice. It belonged to a girl of about sixteen or seventeen, with long fair hair worn loose. She had a slight accent that David was hard-pressed to identify as she stepped forward and placed a bright, new-minted Liberty Head nickel face up on the counter. The manager picked it up and squinted at it, then scooped up Whistler's handful of change and smuggled it away before counting out sixty-four papers and handing them to the perplexed newsboy. Whistler passed two or three to his son before turning toward the gate. The girl followed him.

David bought his own papers without incident, and jogged to catch up with Whistler and his new friend.

"-- the froggin' hell do you think you're doin' here?" Whistler hissed. He grinned when he saw David, and waved him over. "Hey, this is a friend of mine from a bunch of years ago. She just landed this morning."

The girl smiled politely. "Regine Merot," she said by way of introduction. David noticed Whistler flash her a questioning look which she seemingly ignored.

"So, Whistler says you've just arrived? Your name sounds a bit French. Did you come from there?"

Regine and Whistler shared a look, then Regine giggled. "It is a bit more complicated than that," she said. "But yes, my name does come from French. It is a lovely language."

"And do women in France normally go around hatless with their hair loose like that?"

Whistler gave an anxious chuckle as Regine opened her mouth to reply. "Aheheh. David, I think me and Regine have some catching up to do, so why don't you take some of my papes and use the cash to get some sweets or something for Les." He handed David a stack of fifteen or twenty papers, grabbed Robbie's hand, and started off downtown, motioning Regine to follow.

"I will see you again soon, yes?" Regine said, holding back. "And I would like to meet your young brother, Les."

"Wait, how do you-- " But she had already left, lifting her skirts out of the way as she hurried after Whistler.


	5. Chapter 5

So yes. It lives. I've had this chapter written for a bit, but I kept going back and changing things, tweaking the wording, adding some bits and taking out others, and generally driving myself crazy. So here it is. I'm not doing anything else to it, unless there's some glaring mechanical error that somehow slipped through. There's a bit more of the faery language in this, but it should be pretty easy to figure out what's being said. Also, a note on French. For those who do not know, "Merot" pronounced correctly would be rendered phonetically as "meh-ROH". Hope that helps.  


* * *

Mermaids in the East River

Chapter 5

Once they were safely out of earshot, Whistler steered his new friend into a convenient alley, pulling on her sleeve a bit harder than necessary. " 'Regine Merot'?" he asked, incredulous. "Honestly Airge, could you _be_ a little more obvious?"

"Regine" tilted her head questioningly. "Ea neithegen coighre?"

"You're damn right, something's wrong. Anybody with an inkling of old knowledge knows that the fishfolk used to be called merrows. Sure, there's not a lot of folk around with an inkling of old knowledge, but the few there are know quite a lot. And 'Regine'. You know it's French for 'queen'. Are you _trying_ to piss off His Royal Fishiness?"

"Allod-Ri, chac 'His Royal Fishiness'. Ean _thu_ feiluch leimhaich?"

Whistler rolled his eyes. "Fine. _King Allod_. Either way, you need to start speaking English. This country isn't too crazy about human new arrivals, forget non-human ones."

"Rhui-- "

"And that's another thing. I'm called Whistler these days."

"Whistler, then. You might want to go catch your son."

Whistler turned and let out a startled squawk, dropping his newspapers. Robbie had toddled off, and was perched half-way up a precarious stack of packing crates. He looked over his shoulder when he heard Whistler's squawk and grinned mischievously.

"Robbie, don't move!" Whistler said, trying to stay calm as he dashed over to the dangerously leaning tower and swung the boy onto his shoulders. "How many times have I told you not to climb things unless I'm helping you?" Robbie replied with a giggle, and knocked Whistler's cap off.

"A proper little terror, is what you are." Whistler bent to retrieve his cap, put it back on his head, then collected his papers, counting on Robbie to hold himself in place. "Don't know where you got it from."

Regine giggled. "From what I hear, he got it from his father."

"What you've heard is grossly exaggerated, then. Even at my best, I was never _this_ bad."

"So the story about Her High Majesty's green castle-- "

"It was entirely accidental. I had no idea that the girl was powerful enough to destroy the place."

"And the apples from the High Queen's orchard?"

"We were hungry, me and Dhui, and it's not like they were labelled 'Magic Apples, Do Not Eat'. Just bad luck, is all."

"And the time that you seduced the Lady Miralial in order to steal her jewels? I heard her father petitioned to the High Queen to have you executed for that."

"Can we please talk about something else? Like why you're walking around bothering me instead of swimming in the river like you're supposed to?"

"If I am supposed to be swimming in the river, then are you not supposed to be sitting out on a moor somewhere and seducing milkmaids? What are you doing selling newspapers and taking care of a halfling child?"

Whistler peered up through his bangs at Robbie, who was gumming his cap and drooling over everything.

"Folk like us, it takes a lot to make us change," he said. "Luckily there's a lot that can happen. So level with me. What are you doing on land?"

Regine smiled innocently. "Just a bit of an errand for His Majesty. There's a mortal or two he'd like to keep an eye on."

"They wouldn't happen to be two brothers by the name of Jacobs, would they?"

"They might."

Whistler narrowed his eyes in suspicion, then chuckled. "Damn, I've missed this," he said. "The twisting, the turning, the beating around the bush. And the knowing that whatever information I can glean from it all must be true. I don't know how humans do it, come up with something false. It makes them think differently. They don't need to learn how to play with words, because for them, words only mean what they want them to mean."

"All these years, and you still don't understand them?"

"I think the only way to truly understand humans is to become one. It's possible, by the way, which I found a bit surprising. Robbie here is full human, thanks to some hocus-pocus from Jeremy. Myself, I'm not willing to do that, in spite of everything. Not yet."

"So you might?"

"Maybe. Jeremy had said something, twenty, thirty years back, something about Maggie and my future. Back when I was taking care of Alice. I forget what the details were, but he said that Maggie had told him that Alice would be important, and that I would want to keep her safe until she could marry and have children."

"Alice was the little blonde girl you looked after, was she not? I remember her. Lovely child, though like this one-- " here she motioned up at Robbie "-- she was prone to trouble. So did she? Marry and have children?"

"Yah. Married a man named Gwyddne. She was pregnant the last time I saw her." Whistler's gaze focused on something in the distance, though in time or space it was difficult to say. Regine placed a hand on his arm.

"You raised her," she told him. "You did what you could. It is out of your hands now."

"I wonder sometimes-- What happens to the people I know after I leave? Do they change at all? Do they even remember me a few years down the road? Like if I were to look up Alice Gwyddne, would she still remember her older brother who raised her after her parents died? Hell, I don't even know if she's still alive. What year is it again?"

Regine giggled. "How should I know that?"

"Well, you seem to have all the answers. How very typical of females. You always act like you know everything, but will you share this knowledge? Oh no, sir. You like to keep us men guessing. You hold your cards so close to your chest that it makes me wonder if you're holding any cards at all."

"Her High Majesty would probably kill you Herself if She heard you say that."

"Then let's hope that She doesn't. She's not exactly pleased with me as it is."

"Regardless. I will be staying in this area for some time, a few weeks perhaps. I am not used to-- all this. Is there someplace a bit quieter that I could stay, maybe? I don't know how these things work here."

"Mm. I'm not sending you to Jeremy. That would be cruel and unusual punishment for the both of you, and you at least haven't done anything to deserve it. Betsy's got a room a few blocks from Medda's-- I think I can trust her to keep her mouth shut, too."

"Betsy is the mother of your child, yes? You do not live with her?"

Whistler shook his head. "Nah. It ended up being too awkward after the business with Dhui. We're still on good terms, but we aren't close."

"And the boy?"

"He lives with her, mostly. I take care of him when she has work or when she needs a break. It's easier to take him out selling papers than to stick him in the corner of a dressing room on his own. He's better off living with her though, since my accommodations aren't exactly toddler-friendly."

Regine raised a curious eyebrow at this. "Where are you living?"

"Here and there. There's some nice bushes in Union Square, and if that gets too crowded, there's always Central Park. You could camp half an army in Central Park, with room to spare. Plenty of spots for me to curl up with a blanket." Regine nodded at this. A park was indeed no place for a small child to sleep, with or without his father.

"Does it not get cold, though?"

"Oh it will. But not for a month or two yet, and I'll have something figured out by then."


End file.
